


Face of Death

by Higuchimon



Series: On Dragon Wings [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Diversity Writing Challenge, Gen, Minor Character Death, One Character Boot Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4036870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higuchimon/pseuds/Higuchimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking shelter from a storm, the dragon Mizael encounters a very strange being, far too beautiful for his own good.  Or for anyone else's good.  Or so the stranger thinks.  And he might well be right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Face of Death

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
**Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
**Title:** Face of Death  
**Characters:** Mizael, V/Chris  
**Word Count:** 3,664|| **Status:** One-shot  
**Genre:** Drama, Fantasy|| **Rated:** PG-13  
**Challenge:** Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, section G, prompt #004, a oneshot; Written for the One Character Boot Camp, prompt #20, rainy  
**Notes:** This takes place in the same world as _Ring the Dinner Bell_ , but before Mizael and Vector meet one another. So, Mizael is a dragon. What is V? Complex.  
**Summary:** Taking shelter from a storm, the dragon Mizael encounters a very strange being, far too beautiful for his own good. Or for anyone else's good. Or so the stranger thinks. And he might well be right.

* * *

Rain normally didn't inconvenience Mizael. Dragons could see through almost any kind of weather and cold wasn't even a factor to be considered. 

Today was different. Today rain fell out of the skies in a nearly torrential deluge and the wind buffeted and slammed against him as if it had a mind of its own, one bent on bringing the mighty dragon down. 

Mizael chose to descend on his own terms, only when flying above the clouds proved too much of an effort. He'd had to deal with a mighty battle for his territory not all that long and parts of him still ached. 

He'd still shown that other dragon a few things. Such as how it was a very bad idea to try to take anything at all from him, be it a few measly measures of land or his entire chosen area. 

He rolled his shoulders as best he could, keeping up his search for a place he could rest until the storm passed. He wondered vaguely if it was a tool of his enemy, one last strike before he departed the land. The other _had_ shown an uncanny affinity for weather as a weapon, thunder and lightning in particular. 

Well, it didn't matter. He'd won, and _that_ was what mattered. 

Mizael's territory covered many of what humans called kingdoms. Dragons needed a lot of food and to keep oneself to a small demesne could often mean going hungry. Mizael had no intentions of that. He'd suffered hunger pangs often enough in the past. 

Underneath him now there stretched a long range of dark gray mountains, riddled with signs that told him miners, both human and other, make them their home. Forests reached up the stretches of stone as well, which interested him far more. Forests meant food. The mountains meant shelter as well, something he needed to find soon. 

Lightning didn't harm a dragon as it would a human, but it still wasn't something he wished to repeat all that much. He growled as the strikes draw closer, diving down at the sight of a small opening in the rocks. 

It wasn't much. It wouldn't at all hold a dragon. Luckily, Mizael didn't have to wear a dragon's body unless he wanted to. 

In between one breath and the next, the great golden dragon vanished, leaving a tall, golden-haired human in its place. Or a human-shaped being; Mizael was a dragon no matter what form his body wore. 

He wedged his way into the opening, breathing a faint sigh of relief as the rain ceased to pound on him. Being rain-soaked was bad enough when he wore his scales. Soft human skin didn't improve the matter. 

He ran a finger through the long hair on his shoulders and frowned. _This isn't any better, either_. He doesn't have anything in the way of supplies, as human travelers would. He would have to make do with his fingers. It wasn't the best of situations, but for now, he would manage. 

He'd made do a lot recently. It wasn't his favorite way of working through difficulties. 

“You reek of magic.” 

Mizael hadn't expected the voice. He hadn't caught wind of any other scents there besides his own. But now he whirled, fingers curling into claws, ready to fight. 

Doing so gave him a better view of the cave, which turned out to be a little larger than he'd imagined from the outside. Space enough yawned around not just for him, but for a human, a young man with cascades of long, silvery hair that whispered of moonlight and magic. 

“I'm not the only one,” Mizael replied, not taking his eyes off his unexpected company. He spoke nothing but the truth; magic sang through this one much as it did through Mizael himself. 

The other shrugged. “I meant it only as observation. Escaping the storm?” 

“And if I am?” Mizael chose not to relax. He did not know this person. Dragons could fight and win against almost any other creature, but he didn't know what this one was. Human sorcerer or something else altogether, but he could put up more of a fight than Mizael wished to deal with at the moment. 

“Then you should probably sit down.” One long-fingered hand waved and a fire sparked up on the cave floor, warm and comforting in a matter of seconds. 

Mizael considered that, flexing his fingers. Then he stepped forward, found himself a comfortable seat on a rock, and settled there. “Who are you?” He wouldn't get a true answer. Those of magic never gave their true names to anyone. Mizael wasn't even _his_ true name, and even if it had been, human mouths weren't suited to pronounce it.” 

“Call me V,” the stranger said, reaching down to a bag at his feet. He glanced back toward Mizael, a slight hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Forgive me, but you are not human, correct?” 

Mizael rested one hand on the rock that served as his seat. He did not have his claws, but his hands held much of the same strength as they did. He traced a slow design in the stone, something genuine humans could never have hoped to do without tools or magic. 

“And if I am not? Would you deny someone a place to rest because of what they are?” 

V pulled out a small chunk of meat – small by Mizael's standards – and a few other odds and ends and set about making a meal. “No, that isn't why I asked. It's because you've looked at me and you're still alive.” 

Mizael's hand tightened for a breath on the rock. “Really.” He'd heard of some human subcultures where to gaze on the face of one of their members warranted a death sentence. Yet that didn't seem the case here. 

The other only shook his head. “That's not it either. It's… nothing important. If you're not human, then all the better.” 

Mizael did not entirely believe that, but he didn't know enough about humans and human magic to question it. Nor could he find himself especially caring at the moment. He preferred his meat raw, but the scent that had begun to waft through the cave teased his nostrils in a pleasing manner anyway. 

“Is this your home?” Mizael thought to ask as the flames wrapped around the meat. He sniffed; it smelled like deer. Or how he thought deer would smell after being stuck in a fire for a while. He'd never completely understood why humans did that to their food before they ate it. 

V's lips tilted up into a smile. “No. I'm merely traveling. I was caught by the rain and found this place to rest in.” 

Mizael nodded; something still didn't completely add up, but he didn't have all of the pieces to put it all together. A traveling human would normally have some sort of shelter with them, especially one who could work magic as easily as V could. So why take cover in a cleft of rocks, where they could not easily be seen? Was it a desire to avoid people in general? Didn't humans like to congregate together? Wasn't that why they made their villages and towns and cities? 

“And what of you?” V asked, running the tips of his fingers over the meat. Mizael did hope it wouldn't take much longer to be done. 

“Traveling as well,” Mizael replied. He saw no reason to explain further. Whatever V was, it was not a good idea to let a possible enemy know that he was injured. The injuries weren't serious, but any scrap of information could be used in the wrong way by the wrong person. 

“I see.” V nodded thoughtfully before he took the meat off the stick and began to carve it. “Two travelers, caught in the rain together.” His lips twitched. “Both of whom are quite attractive, by human standards. I would imagine the bards would enjoy themselves with a tale such as this.” 

Mizael tilted his head. “Excuse me?” Humans had always been strange to him but V's words made no sense at all. Why would bards care about this? 

“You clearly haven't met many humans,” V said. He picked up a stray pebble, holding it in his hand until it reshaped into a plate that he set part of the meat on. “Do you plan to meet more in the future?” 

“Not if I can help it.” Mizael accepted the plate and started to gnaw at the meat. It was still hot, juices dripping from it, and not quite as good as it would've been without the time spent in the fire. But Mizael knew how to be mannerly and he didn't speak of his unexpected host's poor skills in providing food. 

“A pity. I'm certain there are plenty of humans who would enjoy your company.” V sampled his own side of the meat, seeming to enjoy it much more than Mizael was. “I don't believe you told me your name, stranger. This rain could go on for days. I'd like to have something to call you aside from 'person I've shared my food with.' 

Again, Mizael's manners dictated his answer more than his instincts did. “Mizael.” He didn't know if he liked this human or not. He hadn't spent a lot of time trying to figure out what would make him like one in the first place. 

V bent down to reach into his bag again. “A pleasure to meet you, then, Mizael.” He pulled out a pair of cups and touched each of them with his fingertips, then handed one to Mizael, full of steaming hot liquid. “I don't know if you've had this before, but it's tea.” 

_Tea._ It was familiar; the people of the land where he'd grown up drank this on a regular basis. He remembered that from being a hatchling. He nodded acceptance and began to sip, slowly relaxing with the heat of the fire and the food. 

“V,” he began after a few minutes, curious enough to ask questions. “What did you mean about dying and looking at you?” The other said it wasn't important but Mizael still didn't believe that at all. 

For a few moments he wondered if V wouldn't answer the question. Then the other shrugged, a graceful movement that would've brought envy to many. “Mortal humans can't see my face and continue to live.” 

He did not sound even the slightest happy about this. Mizael leaned forward, another question framing on his lips, when a dark laugh broke through the air. Both he and V jerked, though V moved more quickly toward his bag and pulled out something. Mizael's attention snapped toward the entrance to the cave and he cursed the scent of cooking meat which had masked the approach of a group of mountain bandits. 

“What do we have here?” The bandit in the leader, marked so by a lifetime of scars and a sneer, looked from one of them to the other. “A nice dry place to hole up in during the storm, some good food, and a couple of rich pretty boys to ransom off once it's done. Told you this storm was good luck, fellas!” 

Mizael glanced toward V. The sorcerer – or whatever he was – had sat back up, only now a veil of some kind covered his face. Magic whispered along it, but Mizael didn't have the time to investigate further. The bandits moved in closer as both V and Mizael stood up. 

“This doesn't have to be hard on you, boys,” the leader said, smirking. “Just hand over your food and whatever treasures you have on you and let us have the fire. Oh, and tell us who we'd need to send a ransom demand to and how much your families are willing to pay for you.” 

V's lips quirked. “Is that all?” He didn't sound scared. Mizael knew human fear, if nothing else. He'd seen it on those times when he'd met humans and they knew he was a dragon. 

“Well, if you want something else, I think we can find someone who can provide that, too!” The leader broke out into a horrible guffaw. Mizael's fingers tightened. He seldom ate humans and these smelled like they would need a good bath if he wanted to avoid a stomachache anyway. But he was willing to take the chance. 

“You have nothing that I would want,” the dragon told them. “But if you wish to keep your own lives, leave this place and leave us be.” 

Silence fell for a few quick seconds before all the bandits broke out laughing along with their leader. 

“You think you can scare us, is that it? What are you boys? Mighty wizards or demons in disguise?” Nothing but scorn and scoffing coated the leader's words. 

Mizael smiled. It showed almost all of his teeth. A dragon's teeth were never meant for a human's smile. 

“No. I'm a dragon.” 

Again silence, broken once more by the bandits and their raucous laughter. The leader managed to catch his breath, leaning on the cave to steady himself. “You? A dragon? Dragons are...” He waved one hand toward Mizael. “Dragons have scales. And teeth. And fire. Dragons are _huge_.” He shook his head. “You're not a dragon.” Dismissing Mizael, he turned toward V. “And what about you?” 

“Among other things, a sorcerer.” V negligently gestured toward the fire and flames rose up to caress his hands. “But I have other abilities as well.” 

“Seems one of them is to accessorize!” One of the bandits laughed, pointing toward V's veil. “Are you sure you didn't put on your sister's outfit by mistake?” 

Mizael caught a whiff of anger in V's scent. He stepped to the side to give the sorcerer more room to play with. “Show me,” he murmured. He knew what the other had said before their interruption. Now he wanted to see it. 

V's lips thinned into something not entirely a smile, but very pleasing all the same. Then he looked toward the last bandit who had spoken. “I did not. But do you truly want to see me without it?” 

“How horrible can it be?” The bandit scoffed. “What, are you going to turn me to stone?” 

“I could. But to see me unveiled is to see death. As I told my dragon friend here, no mortal can look on me and live.” Still V did not sound happy about this. 

It only took a couple of steps before the bandit stood in front of V. “All right. Do it then! Let me see your horror!” 

Mizael rolled his eyes. Humans. How could they even consider themselves a dominant species? 

V did not ask any questions. Instead, he simply lifted up his veil and stared into the other's eyes. 

The bandit's breath caught in his throat, his own eyes widening before going blank. He stumbled back, one heel catching on the ground, then collapsed and didn't move again. One of the others dropped down next to him, fingers going for his wrist. He stared up at his leader, enough fear rolling off of him that Mizael had no idea of how anyone else could miss it. 

“He's dead. Not a mark on him.” His eyes drifted toward V, then he jerked away, raising one arm to cover his face. “He really did it! He killed Coro just by _looking at him_!” 

The bandit leader pulled out his sword and reached to cover his own eyes. “You bastard! You're gonna pay for this!” 

“Humans,” Mizael grumbled. “You complain no matter what. Your companion asked to see V's face. He was warned. His fate is his own fault.” 

“You shut up!” The leader pointed his sword vaguely toward Mizael. “Kill them both! They're not worth ransoming!” 

V turned toward the bulk of the bandits, only a few of which had enough presence of mind to realize what he was doing before their gaze met his. Those who did not grasp what was happening in time fell, as stone dead as the first one had. 

When they'd invaded the cave, there had been perhaps twenty or thirty of them. Now as they backed out, shouting about collapsing the cave and ending them both, a third of those lay dead. Mizael and V moved forward to the cave mouth. By now, the bandits all had their eyes covered, though that didn't do anything for their ability to swing a blade. 

V turned toward Mizael. “So, you're a dragon?” 

Mizael nodded. V gestured toward the remains of the bandits. “It wouldn't be fair for me to have all of the fun. Do enjoy yourself.” 

Mizael stepped toward the cave entrance. The rain had slacked up a little, just enough so that transforming would be possible and the bandits wouldn't be able to get away. He caught sight of the bandit leader and smiled again. 

“You said that dragons have scales and teeth and fire. Dragons are large.” Between one breath and the next, he resumed his true form. “Am I enough of a dragon for you now?” 

That one little piece of deer hadn't been enough to completely fill him. The rain did improve the taste of this second course to some degree, but the mud didn't make any improvements. 

The silence afterward did, though. 

* * *

While the rain had eased up, it still wasn't to a point where either V or Mizael felt like moving on. They made themselves comfortable in the cave and passed the time in light conversation, mostly concerning where they planned to go afterward. Mizael did not speak of his still healing wounds even now. He suspected that V kept his own secrets. 

“My father angered a warlock some years ago and all of our family wound up cursed in some fashion.” V gestured toward his face. “This is mine. I can't even look my own family in the face without protections of some kind. So I'm looking for anything that can break the curse.” 

“Have you tried eating the warlock?” Mizeal thought that wasn't such a bad idea. There weren't many spells that could survive their caster's death. 

V chuckled and shook his head. “He's very well protected. If you should happen across him and find it's possible, none of us would mind, though.” 

Mizael found himself doubting that would happen. He had too much of his own work to do to consider breaking someone else's curse. Still, if their paths should happen to cross, he'd at least give it a thought or two. 

The sorcerer glanced up toward the sky from the opening in the cave. Mizael had made certain to clean up the mess from the bandits, mostly through an improvised pyre for them. It was a better funeral than they deserved. But it also made certain that they didn't have to worry about piles of bodies around their temporary lair. 

“This should clear up in another couple of days. It will be time to move on then,” V said. “I must say, it's been interesting. I never though I'd share living space with a dragon.” 

Mizael shrugged. “You were lucky?” 

“So I was,” V said with a smile. He turned his gaze back to the sky. 

Mizael lounged back on the rock, comfortable even in his human form. He hadn't expected to find himself sharing quarters with a cursed human either. Perhaps he was lucky too. Perhaps humans were a little more interesting than he'd thought they were. 

Though he still wished more of them would wash more often. And take better care of their gear. That leather armor wasn't worth adding to his hoard. 

_Perhaps V can sell it. He likely needs the money more than I do._ Mizael yawned and curled himself up, ready for his usual post-feeding nap. He hadn't gotten nearly comfortable enough when he heard the sound of metal ringing and horse hooves clopping. 

“Mizael,” V's voice whispered. “The king's guards. I think they've seen me.” 

Mizael was on his feet a few seconds later, moving up to stand beside the sorcerer, who stood with his veil firmly in place. A troupe of royal guards stood outside the cave and one of them moved forward. From his garb, heavy and rich with metal, he was their commander. 

“We're searching for bandits in the area. Many travelers have told us that a band of them has been causing trouble. Have you seen anything?” 

Mizael and V exchanged a quick look, nearly identical smiles on their lips. V turned back to the soldiers. 

“They came by not that long ago but they didn't really give us any trouble.” 

“Nor will they trouble anyone else,” Mizael could not stop himself from adding. 

V nodded, every bit as satisfied as Mizael was. “But we thank you for your concern.” 

The commander eyed them both, then looked toward his soldiers. Most of them looked as baffled as he was. “If you'd like to come to the city with us, we can offer an escort. Young people such as yourselves shouldn't be unprotected in this land.” 

“Oh, that won't be necessary, but again, thank you for your worries,” V said, waving one hand casually. “You can find what's left of the bandits that way.” He gestured to where they'd piled up what Mizael didn't want for his hoard, mostly consisting of leather armor and weaponry. “You're welcome to whatever you like. We're going to stay out of the rain, though.” 

Both of them slid back inside and settled in by the fire. Mizael could hear the confusion in the soldiers' voices as they tried to understand what was going on, and even more so minutes later, when they found the pile of looted goods. 

“But they're so _pretty_!” He heard one of them say, loud enough that even V heard it. The two looked at one another and smiled. 

Beauty could kill. And how well they knew that. 

**The End**


End file.
